


Protection

by mysticmajestic



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood, Hurt Lance (Voltron), Hurt/Comfort, M/M, POV First Person, Shance Month 2018, Told from the perspective of an alien, injuries
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-08
Updated: 2018-01-08
Packaged: 2019-03-02 04:26:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,616
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13310421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysticmajestic/pseuds/mysticmajestic
Summary: Lance and Shiro are sent on a mission to protect the species of Klyantal from a Galran invasion, only things go wrong when they're betrayed by someone they swore to protect.





	Protection

**Author's Note:**

> Written for day 2 of Shance Month: Black/Blue. I'm a little bit behind and playing catch-up. I split this story up to get it out faster, as it has been sitting on my computer for a month. Enjoy!
> 
>  
> 
> [Follow me on Tumblr!](http://mystic-majestic.tumblr.com/)

My name is Ruuka’amalaka but you can just call me Ruuka.

I come from planet Klyantal. We’re a proud, arboreal species that have been defying the rule of the Galra Empire for deca-phoebs. No matter how much they look for us, the Galra cannot find us. We are one with our sacred trees. Not only do they give us shelter and sustenance, they provide us with protection. You will not see us if we and the trees do not want you to.

The Galra have grown more impatient as time went on. They wish to clear us out, you see, and make our beautiful planet of their new military bases. They would massacre us, destroy our trees, and defile everything that makes this planet ours as they have done on so many other planets. Our culture, our way of life, would be lost. That is not something that we could get back.

We have done all that we can to prevent this. We begged the trees to destroy the ships, and they did so; there is a graveyard for those ships at the very centre of the forest, where we dare not travel. If any Galra survives the destruction, the trees command the mud to swallow them. They die in the muck, choking on it, unable to escape. It is a most fitting end for them.

For a long time, it worked. Now they come in droves. Angered by the defiance, there are more ships than our trees can deal with. Armed with plasma cannons, they shoot anything and everything in its path. They care not for the lives of others if those lives stand in the way of what they want. Filthy heathens. Us Klyantalians will not let this stand!

And so I call upon the heroes of the universe, the paladins of Voltron.

“We will help you,” said Princess Allura of Altea over the web-link, solemn and grim. She looked more like a battle-hardened soldier than a princess. “We are on our way.”

When the news of Voltron’s impending arrival broke, strength and courage came like a cooling breeze on a hot day. Reinvigorated, we were all able to continue the fight against the Galra. We lost more than a few of our brethren. Still, we had hope; this was not the end for us.

 

* * *

 

In the end, they only sent two lions.

“My apologies,” said the Black Paladin, when I pointed out this fact. “Several distress beacons went up around the same time as yours. Voltron needed to split up to deal with them.”

They look a little nervous, being up in the trees as we are. It had taken a little coaxing to get them to climb the rope ladders we have on hand specifically for non-arboreal species. However, our apartments are very sturdy, able to withstand the hellish forces of our storm season.

I chose not to relay that information; I was certain they’d ask when the next season approached, which was little over six quintants from now. I don’t want to cause them panic in case it jeopardises the mission.

“Yeah, but no worries!” said the Blue Paladin, plastering a smirk on his face, bringing me abruptly out of my thoughts. “You ended up getting the best of the bunch. Name’s Lance.” He swept into a bow. “At your service.”

But at the sharp dig of an elbow in his ribs by Black Paladin, Paladin Lance cut out the theatrics, much to my relief. I am not unaccustomed to flirtations, do not be mistaken. This is just my first time experiencing flirtations from a species that does not require the use of four paws to climb through the trees. Their species do not even appear to live in them, if I am correct. Bipedal species are most unusual, yet fascinating.

“My name is Ruuka’amalaka.” I smiled as I watched their faces fall in horror. I do so love it when I tell foreigners my name. Their reactions are nothing short of amusing. “But you may call my Ruuka. I am the leader of my clan.”

“It is an honour to meet you, Ruuka,” said Black Paladin. “I am Shiro, I pilot the Black Lion. This is Lance, he pilots Blue. What seems to be the issue?”

I relayed to them the extent of the Galra’s destruction. The playfulness of Paladin Lance was lost to the horror of my story; as if a switch had been flipped, he was as serious as Paladin Shiro, whose metal arm was glowing—perhaps in response to his own indignant fury on the behalf of my people. We had heard about the Champion before; word spreads fast throughout the galaxy. We know what he’s capable of. It is a relief to have him here.

“They have even burned a portion of our sacred forest,” I finished, tears stinging my eyes. “We cannot lose more of our forest spirits. Without them, everything will surely die. They will continue to burn and destroy until there is nothing left. That is why we called upon you.”

“We’ll drive them out,” Paladin Lance promised, summoning his bayard. “They won’t get away with this. Right, Shiro?”

“Right,” said Paladin Shiro. “Is there anywhere that your people can hide? Preferably somewhere they are unlikely to be caught in the crossfire. We need to limit as many Klyantalian casualties as we can.”

“We can retreat to the northernmost reaches of our forest,” I replied, after thinking about it for a moment. “Please do not let them find my people. The children should not be exposed to the Galra Empire any more than they already have.”

“Don’t worry,” said Paladin Shiro, “they won’t be.”

 

* * *

 

The small council convened on the temporary apartment I assigned Paladins Shiro and Lance in the Tokhu district. I do not think they’ll get around to using this place properly, but propriety demands that I treat these heroes with respect by doing however much I can for them. Good breeding, you see.

We were studying a map of the planet that lay spread across the wooden table, the edges pinned down by rocks.

“We need to come up with a battle strategy,” said Paladin Shiro. “What makes Galra truly terrifying are their numbers. Guerrilla warfare might be our best option, but—”

“ _Battle strategy_?” spluttered Myizakita. He was a younger man, newly appointed to his position as vice secretary. Despite his impeccable skills in his chosen profession, he had a propensity for speaking up when it would be beneficial for him to remain quiet. “The strategy should be to get out at once! The Galra can’t kill us if we’re not here when they arrive.”

Never liked the man. Insufferable coward. The other council members bristled with indignation at the thought of running away, especially after all we’ve done to fend off the Galra until now.

“With all due respect,” said Paladin Shiro, “the Galra will not leave you alone. Ever. They know you’re all here and they’ll do whatever it takes to eradicate you.”

A shiver ran throughout the small council, including myself. We all know full well what the Galra are capable of. There’s not a Klyantalian in this room who hasn’t lost something, or someone, to their tyranny.

“Then why don’t you _paladins_ ,” I bristled as Myizakita spat the word out like poison, “do your jobs and clear them out?” He stepped up to Paladin Shiro until they were almost nose to nose. “Or are you both incapable of that?”

Paladin Shiro held up his hands. “Now wait just a second—”

“Or what? What will you do?”

“You wanna know what we’ll do?” Paladin Lance stomped around his comrade, summoning his bayard into his hand, transforming it into a gun. Myizakita stumbled back, raising his hands, until Paladin Lance pivoted and brought him down with a neat little leg sweep. He levelled the gun at Myizakita’s head, and all the breath seemed to disappear from the room. “This is what we’ll do! Don’t you _dare_ talk to Shiro that way, you ungrateful _brat_. We’re here to _help you_.”

Myizakita quaked, holding his hands up in self-defence. “P-please.”

“Lance.” Paladin Shiro touched the black material covering Paladin Lance’s waist. Paladin Lance jolted, turning his upper body sharply. “Don’t.”

The two of them appeared to communicate through the movements of their eyebrows, lips, and little jerks of their heads. Paladin Shiro’s hand remained on Paladin Lance’s waist, fingers kneading into the flesh if the movements of his fingers were to be believed. Was this kind of contact normal for humans?

After a moment or two, in which no one on the small council dared breathe, Paladin Lance stood up straight and returned his bayard to its original resting place. Paladin Lance shot Myizakita a disgusted look, looming over his cowering form, and said, “Next time you disrespect Shiro like that, no one will be able to stop me from kicking your ass. Got it?”

I sucked in a grateful breath. As much as I disliked Myizakita, I didn’t want Paladin Lance to shoot him. The blood would be difficult to get out of the wood, for a start.

Myizakita nodded frantically. “Y-yes!”

“Yes, what?”

“ _Yes, sir_!”

Satisfied, Paladin Lance lowered his gun and stepped back. As he resumed his position behind Paladin Shiro, whose hand fell from Paladin Lance’s waist, the two of them shared a look. Paladin Lance wore a rather saucy expression as he muttered, “Hear that, Shiro? He called me _sir_.”

I could not hear what Shiro replied with, nor see what expression he had made. When he turned back to us, his face was an expressionless mask.

“Right,” said Paladin Shiro. “Let’s get to it.”


End file.
